


Death of a bachelor

by chumpi



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Insecure Peter Parker, Multi, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Precious Peter Parker, Sad Peter Parker, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, skewered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chumpi/pseuds/chumpi
Summary: It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt.Peter repeated the mantra in his mind over and over again, itcouldn’thurt. He was an Avenger now, they didn’t fall over and cripple because of silly things likethis.He wouldn’t let the others worry over him for something so petty, not that they would because he had to bestrong.None of the other Avengers were weak, they’d just brush this off like an irritating itch in their side; he couldn’t let themknow.Not now. Not ever.





	1. Chapter 1

_It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt._ Peter repeated the mantra in his mind over and over again, it _couldn’t_ hurt. He was an Avenger now, they didn’t fall over and cripple because of silly things like _this._ He wouldn’t let the others worry over him for something so petty, not that they would because he had to be _strong._ None of the other Avengers were weak, they’d just brush this off like an irritating itch in their side; he couldn’t let them _know._ Not now. Not ever.

 

_“Spider-Man, status report, are you okay?”_ Cap’s voice comes through the coms in his sensitive ears. 

 

The pole skewering his body shifts uncomfortably against his organs, his heart hammers rapidly against his ribcage and an unbearable sense of dread drenches his body in a cold, sheet of sweat – a stark contrast against the hot flush of his skin wrapped tightly in the ripped suit. 

 

_“Spider-Man?”_ Cap questions again, and Peter can _nearly_ sense the worry leaking into the captain’s voice. 

 

Everything hurts. Pain surged throughout his body like a river of melting tallow under the surface of his skin, feverish and hot, burning him from the inside out. It felt as is his suit was constricting and constricting and constricting around his shaking form, crushing his bones and piercing his lungs. _He couldn’t breathe._

 

“SPIDER-MAN!” Cap’s voice was loud and clear, piercing his eardrums and ringing throughout his head. 

 

He had to respond, didn’t want any of them to get _suspicious,_ didn’t need them to come to find him like this and then think of him as _weak._ He couldn’t have that. He _couldn’t._

 

“Y-Yeah,” He heard somebody croak out – it’s like he didn’t recognize himself, didn’t recognize his own voice. 

 

Thick curdles of blood bubbled up from his raw throat and out of his widened mouth, painting his cracked lips and wobbling chin crimson red. It hit the ground in droplets with loud thuds, pooling on the concrete, below him – the sound was continuously bouncing across the expanse of his mind and bursting into his eardrums. 

 

“M’ fine, just a bit.. drowsy.” He lied through the skin of his chattering teeth, his broken fingers clutching at the metal bar skewering him straight through, he could feel himself slipping down inch by inch, the cold metal grating against his burning, sensitive organs, and the ground was getting closer and closer by each passing minute. 

 

A groan fell from the arachnid’s lips and the burning pain the once overtook his body mellowed out into an icy numbness. A deep blackness seeped into the edges of his blurred vision and the sound of his heartbeat rattling against his cracked and crumbling ribcage echoed around his empty skull. The pain ebbed away at his broken form as he slipped further and further down the pole, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up, an avenger wouldn’t do that.

 

Captain America wouldn’t do that, 

 

Iron Man wouldn’t do that,

 

The Hulk wouldn’t do that,

 

Hell, he’s pretty sure even Pepper Potts wouldn’t do that.

 

And so, he made his decision. 

 

Peter clutched at the metal bar skewering him, his knuckles turning white at how hard he was gripping it and the metal groaned underneath his tight hold.   
His hands shook like a leaf as he lifted himself up and off the bar. Pain erupted around his body and he couldn’t help the pained scream that left him upon the now-gaping-hole in his stomach being hit by the cold air around him. 

 

Peter was pretty sure there was a voice in his coms asking him if he was okay and for a status report but in his hazed state he doesn’t think he replied – can’t really remember, just knows that he’s currently swinging back towards the fight and the wound has been sealed with his own webbing (in which is currently being stained red). 

 

The fight was a blur too, filled with pain and suffering and it was almost _unbearable_ but he was an Avenger now, he _couldn’t_ let something like this minor injury stop him. 

 

Peter stood in the middle of the street, hot, red fire pulsated around his bleeding wound and with each step he took towards the retreating avengers the more pain that was amplified around his shaking being. 

His knees felt less and less sturdy and more and more like jelly with each jarring step he took, his muscles quivered under the weight of everything he was holding in and _god_ he couldn’t _breathe._

 

Reality hit him hard and fast.

 

The inside of his mouth felt as wet as a river and as dry as a desert all at once, his throat was raw and it felt as if his lungs were wrapped securely in lead, compressing and compressing and compressing till they were nothing but scrunched up images of organs.

 

_He couldn’t breathe._

 

A dizzy feeling erupts in his head and he collapses down to his knees, his quivering, clothed hands clutching at the gaping wound in his stomach, and he looks up and his teammates _still_ haven’t noticed and that’s okay because he’s _fine_ he doesn’t need help, he’s an _Avenger_ now, _he isn’t weak._

 

He’s strong – He. Is. Strong. 

 

It’s only now, does he come to realize that there’s a harsh breeze hitting his face head-on and there’s the sound of camera’s flashing and civilians screaming and shouting and pairs of boots _running_ towards him, but,

 

He

 

Can’t

 

Breathe


	2. Chapter 2

Oh god, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t _hear._ Everything was quiet and loud and quiet and loud and there were hands grabbing at him from all sides and voices were _screaming_ in his ears.

 

There were pairs of faces in front of him, mouthing words but he couldn’t make out what they _saying_ and there were black spots clouding his vision, his head was spinning as if he was on a carousel, his hands were shaking and _god_ his stomach was burning and burning and _burning._  
A steadily growing wetness was forming around his lower abdomen and running down the top of his thighs, all of his senses were screaming at him at the tops of their lungs and it was all too _much,_ and then he was falling and falling and _falling._ The world was flying past him as he fell backward, closer and closer to the growing concrete.

 

_Smack._

 

His head hit the concrete with a loud bang, the hands going to catch him just barely missing and a long, drawn-out ringing noise started to sound throughout his head and then, there was nothing. 

 

Nothing,

 

Nothing,

 

_Nothing._

 

Pale skin. Clammy. Greasy hair. Stuck to his forehead. Bandages wrapped tightly around his lower abdomen. Already stained red with blood. Eyes are closed. Hands are limp. Fever. Over 102 degrees.

 

It’s him, Peter notes carefully as he stares down at the lifeless form laying on the hospital bed. That’s him, but it’s also _not_ him, he guesses. 

It’s like a choice, go back, or stay. Benefits of going back? Not many. He’s weak as it is, this injury will have made him weaker. The Avengers can’t have somebody _weak  
_ on their team. But, he’s not an _avenger,_ he’s just puny, penis Parker. He’s just _him._ Mr Stark will take away the suit and everything will go back to before the bite. No more Spider-Man. No more Avengers. No more _anything._

 

The Avengers probably don’t even _view_ him as their equal, he’s just a kid of course. He’s dirt underneath their shoes. He’s _nothing._

Reality hit’s him hard and fast. 

He’s really nothing. Nothing at all. 

Oh god.

 

Now he was drowning and drowning and everything was black, he couldn’t _breathe,_ there was no oxygen and he couldn’t _see_ anything and-

“Peter!” 

 

What? There was a voice, sounding distinctly like Mr Stark’s but he _couldn’t_ be sure. Because why would _he_ be here? Oh right, he probably wants the suit back – not that it would be that good, because it’s been ripped and stained with his bl- 

 

“Peter! C’mon punk, please start breathing!”

 

That was Bucky. He liked Bucky a lot, the man let him put magnets on his metal arm and sometimes he was even allowed to tinker around with the metal arm. Despite what people said about the man, he was undeniably kind to hi-

 

“Clear!” 

 

There’s a sharp electric feeling burning through his chest and everything is coming back into view and there are faces staring down at him, some tear-stained, and he can hear people crying and shouting for him, to “Come on!” and “Please, Pete!” 

 

Although, he doesn’t think he physically _can,_ because, why would he? He doesn’t deserve to be with them.

 

But then, he had second thoughts, what would May do if he suddenly died? She’s already lost Ben, he couldn’t do this to her too, and Ned, what would he think? Even if MJ didn’t like him, he knew she’d give him shit for dying when the Decathlon team was meant to be going to another competition soon, or maybe that’s already happened, he can’t remember honestly. His minds going blank again and there’s blackness pooling into the sides of his already blurry vision.

 

And then there’s another, fiercer electric shock running through his chest and he’s surging forward with a strangled cry, paying no mind to the intense burning feeling in his lower abdomen as he tries to bat away the hands urging him to lay back down, because he can’t go back _now,_ he’s here and he’s staying, for Tony, Bucky, May, Ned, hell, even all of the other Avengers. He _can’t_ leave them now, not yet. 

 

His mouth feels dry and he _swears_ that he sees double of everything but he’s _back,_ and that’s all that matters because he isn’t _dead_ and he won’t be alone anymore because everyone’s around him, and it’s slightly suffocating but it feels _good._   
It’s like a breath of fresh air after spending your life in a polluted city – refreshing and so, so needed. 

 

He coughs once, and then twice, and then a third time before he feels as if he can _finally_ breathe properly again and allows the hands on his shoulders to push him gently back down into a laying position. 

 

There’s a metal hand clutching his left and a human hand clutching his right, he shakily entwines his fingers with the both and smiles dazedly up at the ceiling. He’s okay, he thinks.

 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so fucking sick what the fuckity fuck

**Author's Note:**

> hey its me again


End file.
